


All I Want

by Jetlagden



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: All I Want, Angst, At least I think it's angst, Gen, Goodbye John, Hello John, I Believe in Sherlock Holmes, I got feels while writing this, I'm not sure if I did this right, John's cane's back too, Kodaline, Lalalala I got bored, M/M, Songfic, Soo, Talking to graves, post reichenbach fall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 07:44:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetlagden/pseuds/Jetlagden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I still don’t want to believe you’re gone. When I close my eyes, you’re still here. Because the truth is, I miss you, Sherlock."</p><p>A songfic to Kodaline's All I Want (great song, look it up.) I find it perfect for John & Sherlock after the Reichenbach Fall, and so I decided to write this. Tell me what you think! :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm yes. First Sherlock Fic, and I'm really not so sure about this, but well... A friend of mine gave me the challenge to make her cry with this, and I don't know if I managed that...  
> ANyways, let me know what you think :D Not beta'd, so all mistakes are mine :)

 

_All I want is nothing more_

_To hear you knocking at my door_

_Cause if I could see your face once more_

_I could die a happy man, I’m sure_

I never thought you’d really do it. Not when I saw you standing there, on that god-awful rooftop, not even when I saw you fall. It just seemed unreal, you doing something like that. Of course, I knew you had your troubles, but so did I, but I always thought, hoped, that you wouldn’t  be so desperate to do what you did…

There’re detectives on your “case”, but they work incredibly slow. You’d have solved it with one look, like you always do. Did.

I still don’t want to believe you’re gone. When I close my eyes, you’re still here. Because the truth is, I miss you, Sherlock.

 

 

_When you said your last goodbye_

_I died a little bit inside_

_I lay in tears in bed all night_

_Alone, without you by my side_

> My dreams are back, you know, just like my cane. It’s strange, but I need it. The dreams, or rather nightmares, are different though. They start in the war, like the old ones, but they always end with you. I hear your voice, saying those damn awful words all over again.

_“This is my note. That’s what people do, right? Leave a note.. Goodbye, John.”_

Goodbye, John. Those I hear the most. Goodbye, John. The night after you jumped, I cried myself to sleep, if I even slept at all. I clutched your pillow to my side, Sherlock, just to smell you. And now, when I sleep, I dream that one moment. Every single time I see you hitting the ground, every single time I wake up screaming your name, I’m drenched in sweat and every time, when I wake up and realize you’re still dead, I die with you.

 

 

_If you loved me, why’d you leave me?_

_Take my body, Take my body_

_All I wanted, and all I need is_

_To find somebody, to find somebody_

_Like you_

So why did you do it? Why, Sherlock? You said you had no friends, yet you counted me as one. Or, I counted you as one, at least. Perhaps a little more, like the rest of the world seemed to think. Guess it’s too late to figure that out now.. But let’s just say I love- loved- you, and you did too. Why did you go if you loved me? Even if you didn’t love me, why? To protect me? I’ve been to war, Sherlock, I’m a soldier, I think I can handle whatever was going. I’m not so sure if I can handle this, though. I need you, Sherlock.

 

 

_You brought out the best in me_

_A part of me, I’ve never seen_

_You took my soul and wiped it clean_

_Our love was made for movie screens_

The time with you was the best. You made me forget about the war, the people I’ve lost back there. You showed me how I could live my life too; like I did when I was younger, much younger, and surrounded by friends. I still try to do that, but it’s hard to live with friends without my best one.

Mrs. Hudson refuses to rent 221B to someone else, she says, and I quote, “That man always returns, my dear. I can’t let him come home with somebody else in there!” I just hope she’s right, cause I’m not so sure about it..

Do you know they’re planning to make a film about us? You, mostly, but still.. Weird. We should see it, together, once, when Mrs. Hudson gets proven right and my wish comes true.

_Don’t be dead._

I’m just gonna continue hoping that, even though I know it’s not gonna happen. Don’t be dead. I still say those words every day.

 

 

_So if you loved me, why’d you leave me?_

_Take my body, take my body_

_All I want is, and all I need is_

_To find somebody, I’ll find somebody_

_Like You_

It’s been seven weeks and three days now, and it’s a Wednesday. I’m at his grave, as usual around this time. ‘You know,’ I say, ‘Yesterday a woman came up to me, with her newborn son. His name’s Sherlock, she said she named him after you…’ I smile in the sunshine and sit down. ‘There are still people who believe in you,’ I continue, ‘Even though I told Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and the rest of the country that you apparently told a lie. Still not believing that, by the way.’ I sigh, as I run a hand through my hair. My mind wanders away to two weeks ago, when I broke down and Mrs. Hudson was there. I’d basically told her everything, about the  dreams, about my “feelings” if you could call them that for Sherlock… She listened to me, and after I was done, when I could do nothing but cry, she had said: ‘I know it hurts, I know you want him to  come back, but sometimes you’ve got to accept things. He might not come back, and you have got to learn to let go and maybe you’ll find someone like him.’ I had looked up and said: ‘Never.’ I know she was right, I know she knows it, but I also know she knew both of us couldn’t accept it just yet.

I let out another sigh, as I look at my watch. Oh, that late already? I pick up my cane, and help myself up. ‘Well, I better get going,’ I say, ‘Mrs. Hudson is waiting for me with dinner.’ I place a hand on his stone. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ I promise, ‘Bye, Sherlock.’ I turn around, ready to walk away when I hear a voice. It’s so real, it makes the hairs on my neck stand up. A voice in my head sais it can’t be real, and deep inside I know it’s real, but when I turn my head, I see him standing there. Long black coat, the same curly hair, pale skin.. He seems so real, nothing like my dream-version of him. He sees me staring, and I can see he tries to hide a smile. ‘I said,’ he, Sherlock, repeats in that deep voice of his, ‘Hello, John.’


End file.
